Just a curl
by ilrahcbow
Summary: When Italy falls sick and falls into a deep sleep, the only way Germany thinks he can wake him up is to pull the curl on the side of his head. Little does he know the consequences...
1. Chapter 1

Italy shut the front door behind him with a smile, following after Germany with a small smile. He skipped past the man, placing the bag of groceries on the kitchen work surface.  
"My turn to cook tonight!" he smirked. Germany rolled his eyes and smiled.  
"Ok. But don't over-do it on the portions." The boy nodded absently, hastily pulling everything out of the bag.

A little under an hour and Italy emerged from the kitchen proudly holding a huge tray of steaming pasta. Germany's face darkened at the sight, passing a hand to his head in despair as the boy set the dish on the table. Italy sat down, a giddy smile on his face.  
"Well?"  
"Ugh, what did I tell you about portions, Italy?" Germany said, rubbing his forehead. "You're just lucky you have a high metabolism." he muttered under his breath.  
"Hm?" Germany looked up to find the boy looking back at him, his mouth stuffed with pasta, sauce dribbling down his chin.  
"UGH. Italy! Stop! Look! You've had more than half of the tray! Stop before you're sick!" he urged, moving over and wiping the boy's mouth with a napkin. "I have to treat you like a baby sometimes! Remind me how old you are?"  
"500 years old." Italy pouted miserably.  
"Exactly. So I shouldn't have to be telling you to stop eating when you've clearly had enough!"  
"But it tastes so good." the boy moaned. He clutched his stomach and threw his head back in discomfort.  
"Now look! You've gone and given yourself a stomach ache. Tauschen." Germany shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. "I'll go and get you a glass of water. Stay there and I'll be right back. Hopefully this will teach you a lesson." he grumbled, marching into the kitchen. He returned a few moments later to find Italy sprawling pathetically on the floor. "Italy?" he approached the boy, and cocked his head. "A-are you ok?" Italy squirmed, writhing on his back and clutching his stomach. He rolled back and forth incessantly.  
"Please make it stop, Germany. Its painful." he whimpered. Germany knelt down and gently poured the water into the boy's mouth. Most missed his mouth and ended up dribbling down his pasta covered chin.  
"Better?" Germany asked softly. The boy shook his head weakly. Germany frowned and made to give the boy another lecture when a knock at the front door broke his train of thought. "Hold on. I'll be right back." he said and got to his feet.

"Oh Romano its you." Germany mused coldly, upon opening the door.  
"Ugh, look, do me a favour and just give these to Vene would you? They got the address wrong when shipping it over here and ended up at my place." he said, holding out a grey, suit bag.  
"Oh. Jah, of course. I'll give them to him." Germany blinked, taking the suit bag. "He's not feeling too good at the moment but-"  
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM! OUT OF THE WAY, BASTARD!" Romano exploded, pushing past the man, his head darting in every direction to find Italy. Upon finally finding the boy, Romano dropped to his knees and clutched at the roots of his hair. "V-vene! Fratello, speak to me! What has that bastard done to you..."  
"I didn't do anything, Romano." Germany said bluntly, draping the suit bag over the back of a chair. "He just overate and now he has a stomach ache."  
"POISONED!" The man spat.  
"I didn't-" Germany stopped, acknowledging the tone of his voice and calmed down. "I'm not going to argue with you, Romano. I don't really care what you think. But I didn't do anything to Italy. That, I can assure you of."  
"I feel sick." the boy squeaked.  
"I-its ok, Vene." Romano comforted. "Come on, go to bed. And when you wake up, you can try on those new suits you ordered, ok?" Germany smirked from the other side of the room, folding his arms. Never in all his time of knowing Romano, had he ever seen the man so fraternal and caring. Perhaps it was a side of him that only ever showed itself in times of concern. Italy struggled to his feet and, with his arm around Romano for support, Germany watched the two men slowly make their way upstairs. He decided to leave them be and instead, sat back down at the table to finish the small amount of pasta left in the dish.

Romano came back down the stairs a little while later.  
"He's asleep."  
"Good." Germany forced a smile and propped his glasses up on his head, lowering the book he was reading. "I assume you're going home now?"  
"No!" Romano scoffed. "As if I trust you and him alone! I still have my doubts about you and I don't believe what you say." he squinted, eyeing Germany darkly. Germany shrugged and put his readjusted his glasses back over his eyes, resuming to read his book.  
"Fine. But I wouldn't be shouting like that or you'll wake Italy up." Romano stopped, his mouth agape. He screwed up his face and turned his nose up.  
"Shut up." he growled, slouching on one of the dining room chairs, resting his head in his hands.

A few hours crawled by, Romano and Germany having to painfully endure each other's company-even though the awkwardness that hung thick in the air was mainly because of Romano, who would constantly whip his head round and snatch evil glances at Germany at every given opportunity. That being said, Germany tried to ignore him as best as he could, although Romano's penetrating glare was often hard to ignore. Italy's slow descent broke the silence, the sound cutting through the awkward silence. Romano leapt to his feet as the boy wearily stumbled into the room.  
"Fratello! Are you feeling better?" Germany removed his glasses and looked in Italy's direction.  
"Yes, how are you feeling, Italy?" he chimed in with a smile. The boy grimaced, on the verge of tears and shook his head.  
"N-not good..." he said feebly. Germany frowned.  
"This isn't right. A stomach ache from overeating shouldn't give you symptoms as bad as thes-" before he could even finish his sentence, Germany watched the boy's eyes roll back lifelessly and he flopped head first on the floor. "Italy!" Germany sprung from the sofa and to the boy's side, where he scooped up the smaller man and looked with concern to his pale face.  
"What the hell is wrong with him!" Romano cried, panic washing over his voice.  
"I-I don't know..." Germany responded, as collected as he could, even though, deep inside, a dark feeling was beginning to churn in his stomach. "This has never happened before! I-I don't understand! Italy? Italy can you hear me?" The boy did not respond. His eyelids did not even so much as twitch. Germany shook Italy's shoulders gently. "Italy please! Come on! Snap out of it!" Again, Italy lay still in Germany's arms.  
"I don't think calling his name is going to help, idiot!" Romano retorted scornfully.  
"Well what do you suggest we do then!" Germany hissed back. Romano bit his lip and panicked.  
"I-I don't know!"  
"Well then, be quiet and let me think!" Germany snapped. "Wait!" he said, his eyes darting back and forth on the ground. "Yes. This has to work." he said with a triumphant smile.  
"W-what are you doing? Germany? Germany?" Romano watched in horror as Germany reached and yanked the curl on the side of Italy's head. His eyes widened as the roots of the boy's hair suddenly began to darken, bleeding like ink until his whole head of hair had changed to a crimson colour. Italy lifted his head suddenly, making both Germany and Romano jump. Romano suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM!" Italy turned round slowly to face Germany, his eyes wide. Germany let out a silent gasp. Italy's eyes were bright red.

End of chapter 1

A/N: Ahhh ok! And there is the first chapter of what will probably be a 3 part series. Any feedback is much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Germany stumbled backwards in shock and got to his feet. "I-italy! What the hell's going on! W-why are you different!" The boy lifted his head, rolling it back lifelessly, his eyes glassy and absent. Then he rose to standing and walked slowly forward towards Germany. "I-italy? What are you doing?" A dark sensation tingled in the man's stomach. This wasn't right. This wasn't Italy. Germany shook his head and marched forwards, clamping two hands on the boy's shoulders. "Italy, snap out of it! What the hell's gotten into you!" he barked. Italy's eyes widened and he nimbly slipped out of the other's grip, twisting round and snatching one of the knives from the table behind him. He lashed out, brandishing the sharp blade out in front of him. Germany let out a gasp and took a step backwards. "ITALY?!"  
"Don't touch me, bastard." the boy said lowly, an alien tone to his voice. Romano stood frozen against the other wall, watching helplessly. Germany overcame this new found fear and scowled. This was Italy. He would never really do anything. He just wouldn't. The man took an authoritative step forward.  
"This is enough Italy. Its not funny anymore. Put down the knife, okay?" Germany reached out for the blade, only for Italy to suddenly move his hand away and send a hard kick to the man's stomach. Germany let out a dry gag and dropped to his knees.  
"I never said it was funny." Italy spat, wiping his mouth. He flipped the blade over in his palm. Germany looked up, his neck trembling. Was this real? Had Italy really just knocked him to the floor without even breaking a sweat. Romano couldn't believe his eyes. He exchanged glances with Germany before swallowing and clenching his fists.  
"Vene! I don't know what the hell-a you think you're-a playing at but stop this-a right now! Someone's going to get hurt, you idiot!" he took a step forward towards him. Italy whipped round and glared with wild eyes at Romano. Germany saw his opportunity and quickly got to his feet to steal back the knife while the boy was distracted. Italy caught on, last minute, what Germany was about to do and made to kick him again. Germany, prepared this time, avoided the blow and slapped the boy's cheek with the back of his hand, leaving a burning red streak across Italy's face. The boy growled and pounced on Germany, forcing them both the floor, where they both continued to grapple aimlessly. Romano's gaze darted back and forth between the two men on the floor, unable to say anything or do anything. Suddenly, there was a cry and Italy stood up, the blade still in his hand. The edge of the knife was dripping with blood. Romano cupped a hand to his mouth and stopped himself from crying out in horror. Germany flopped lifelessly on his side.  
"SHIT! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!" He screamed. Italy turned round slowly, a placid frown on his unfazed face.  
"Do you want to go next?" he asked calmly.  
"Vene please! Just stop! Look what you've done!" The boy turned back round to face Germany. He cocked his head and stared in silence. Romano saw his chance and kicked the crux of the man's knee, making the boy fall to his knees. He grabbed the boy's hair and punched him hard on the jaw. Italy instantly fell unconscious, the blade dropping from his hand. Romano panted out of breath and passed a trembling hand to his head. He combed his fingers though his hair in panic. What did he do? Germany had been stabbed and his brother was suddenly a merciless killer. He had to act quickly before Italy woke up. However, no sooner had the thought entered his head, the boy's head began to lift from the floor. Romano stood back and held up his fists in defence. But no sooner did the two boys lock gazes, Romano dropped his arms to his sides. Italy's eyes had softened back to a amber colour, his hair returned to auburn. He looked in confusion to Romano.  
"R-roma?" he said weakly. "W-what happened? Why am I...what am I doing on the-" upon twisting round, the boy saw the pitiful sight of Germany's limp body lying on the floor before him. He let out a sharp gasp and moved to his side. "Germany! R-romano!" he cried, fear striking his faltered voice, tears beginning bubble in his eyes. He clapped both hands to his mouth upon seeing the small patch of blood staining the front of the man's shirt. "Romano! W-what happened! Why is he bleeding! We have to help him!" he sobbed. Romano looked on in disbelief.  
"Y-you mean, you don't remember what just happened?"  
"No!" he whimpered.  
"You f*cking stabbed him, Vene! I watched you do it!"  
"I w-what?" The boy's face crumpled and he doubled over on the floor, choking on his own tears. Germany raised his head slowly, a low groan leaving his throat.  
"I-italy?" he said weakly. The boy shot up and moved over.  
"Germany! W-what happened!"  
"Y-you...you..."  
"Did I really hurt you?" he stammered in disbelief.  
"I-I'm fine, Italy." he gritted his teeth, struggling to sitting. He clasped a hand over his stomach where the wound had bled.  
"No you're not!" he cried.  
"Italy please! T-this is my fault...I pulled your curl and i-it turned you...it-"  
"M-my curl?" he blinked. Italy's eyes darted back and forth on the floor. "Of course. Grandpa always told me never to let anyone touch it...that must be why...oh no..." he cupped his head in his hands and cried even more.  
"Italy please..." Germany begged feebly. "Its ok...really!"  
"No its not!" he snapped, whipping his head round. The boy snatched the blood covered knife from the floor and held it up to his head with a trembling hand. "  
"I-Italy no..."  
"Vene, don't you even think about-"  
"I have to, Romano! I can't let anyone else get hurt!" Italy said, his voice shaking. Germany reached out, his eyes wide, as the boy hacked off the curl with one strike. Both men watched Italy's eyes roll back lifelessly as he fell backwards to the floor, the blade dropping from his hand. The pice of hair landed silently beside him.  
"VENEZIANO!" Romano screamed, rushing to the other's side. "Shit shit shit! Germany!" he panicked. Germany sat frozen, his arm still outstretched. The man could do nothing except look on helplessly at the lifeless boy before him. Romano's voice seemed to warp and distort around him, a sudden pounding at the back of his head rushing in his ears. What had he done.

 **End of Chapter 2**

 **A/N: OH THE DRAMA! :'3 What will Germany do now? Will Italy survive the consequences of cutting off his curl? Find out soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

Germany moved over to Italy's side, propping his head up with his hand. "H-he's not responding!"  
"Of course he's not f*cking responding!" Romano yelled, clawing the roots of his hair.  
"Well stop standing around complaining and do something useful, verdammit!" Germany barked, raising his voice. Romano stood frozen, his eyes wide. "CALL AN AMBULANCE!" And with that, Romano disappeared round the corner. Germany could hear his muffled and breaking voice talking through the wall. He looked to Italy in despair. "Why..." he whispered.  
"They're on their way." Romano reappeared, combing his fingers through his fringe. "But they'd better hurry the f*ck up...he's fading quickly." the man clapped a hand to his mouth, looking to his sickly brother, fat tears clouding his vision.

The ambulance came in time, and both Germany and Romano had to watch Italy being lifted onto a stretcher, wheeled into the back of the van. The whole journey to the hospital, the two men would exchange glances-and unlike their usual irritated or angry glares, both shared looks of genuine sympathy and concern, each, in turn surprised the other was capable of expressing such an emotion.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Italy was received by several doctors, off of whom crowded round the stretcher and wheeled it off before neither Romano or Germany could reach them. They stood in the entrance, watching the group turn the corner and disappear fully from sight.  
"Well, he's out of our hands now." Germany sighed. He moved over to the front desk and gave in Italy's details accordingly. Upon reaching Romano again, he said "They'll call us if there's any news." Romano nodded, plastering a smile on his lips. But Germany could see how pale his face had become and how dark and sunken the rings around his eyes had grown. "Come on." he soothed, patting the other's shoulder gently. "Lets take you the cafe-it might just take your mind off things."

Two hours passed and still there had been no news. Romano held the polystyrene coffee cup with a trembling hand. He would occasionally steal anxious glances to Germany, of which were responded with a cold nod from the other. Then, finally, Germany's phone sounded. Romano's grip instantly tightened on the cup polystyrene snapping under his grasp. His eyes grew wide, watching Germany intently. Germany's eyes darted back and forth on the table, listening to the voice on the other side of the phone. He clicked off the phone, placing it on the table. "Schizer..." he whispered.  
"What did they say?" Romano urged, leaning over the table. When Germany did not respond, the man banged his fist on the table, making the plates and the cups jump slightly. "WHAT DID THEY SAY!"  
"T-they say...he's probably not going to make it..." Germany said, barely audible. Romano felt a dark sensation swirling in his stomach. He sat, unable to even think for a moment, before springing to his feet, sprinting out of the cafe. Germany rushed after him.  
"Where the hell are you going!" he called.  
"To see my brother, idiot!" the man snapped back. "He's not going to die on me this easily!"

 **End of ch 3**

 **A/N: Sorry this was a short chapter~hopefully I'll be able to wrap everything up in the next one! But for now, the question is, is Italy going to make it?**


End file.
